


What Stays and What Fades Away

by ElisabethMonroe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes-centric, M/M, Politics, Shrunkyclunks, Vigilante Bucky, first son bucky, political animals AU if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 01:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19121542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisabethMonroe/pseuds/ElisabethMonroe
Summary: In which:First Son Bucky Barnes is horrifically injured in war, meets Steve Rogers, and is never the same(Vigilantism, brainwashing, murderous VPs, what another day in Bucky's life?)





	What Stays and What Fades Away

**Author's Note:**

> Done in collaboration with the ever lovely [TT-Angst-Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT_Angst_Queen) for the Cap Reverse Big Bang 
> 
> Title from Florence and the Machine, of course [No Light No Light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGH-4jQZRcc) Literally my most favorite Bucky Barnes song of all time
> 
> Was supposed to be a lot longer, had the wrong date in mind, it happens to idiots like me, bon appétit

**Now**

 

All his life, people had said Bucky was the best at dodging blame. It was never his fault. There was always someone else to point a finger at.

Crouched on the roof of the building adjacent to his apartment in the dead of night while the secret service broke down his door, Bucky was thinking this was truly not his fault. And not in the boyish way of his youth where a charming smile could get him out of detention note or making puppy eyes at his mother would relieve him of whatever punishment his debauchery had accrued. This was the result of a sham enlistment and an accidental deployment and a self hatred, all of which was born directly out of his father’s quest for fame and power. This was the result of torture and experimentation and amputations because he was his father’s son and his father did not negotiate with terrorists. And neither did his mother, now either.

Bucky watched smoke billow out of his windows after three separate smoke bombs were set off, which was excessive for this apartment. It was smaller than he was used to, a hiding spot more than anything else. He hadn’t even used his name to rent it.

“We should go,” Captain America said next to him, judging the building with a critical eye. “They’ll set barricades around the neighborhood and your cat-burglar mask won’t deter the secret service.”

Bucky knew it was true, but  he couldn’t help but watch his father’s brutes tear apart the one place he’d gone to hide, the only place that had ever been his. “They don’t even have a clue,” he muttered.

Captain America sighed and let a heavy hand clap on Bucky’s shoulder. “Some men never will. They won’t understand until you’re standing bare in front of them. But for right now, we need to move, Soldier.”

Bucky looked up at him, those tense blue eyes nothing like they were when the cowl was off, and wondered if the Winter Soldier could actually ever be bare if Captain America could take so much out of man. Instead of leaning up to kiss him like he was desperate to, Bucky only squeezed his forearm and reached for his breathing mask, locking it in place under the eye mask. He nodded at Captain America before taking off across the building tops, quick and invisible.

Captain America didn’t try to follow him, which was fine. Bucky knew he couldn’t. No one could keep up with the Soldier, especially not in such a high intensity course. Half an hour later, he dropped down a disgusting alley and slowly peeled the layers off. First the lower half of the mask, then his goggles, then the kevlar and utility belt. He made sure the knives were hidden and the gun holstered, not that it much mattered at this bar.

Throwing everything over his arm, he shouldered into the back door and let himself into the dive bar that was barely still standing on its own. Exactly the kind of place that Bucky Barnes, gay First Son, debauched public figure, absolute party boy, would frequent or hide in. The bartender and owner, a man who looked like he should not own a bar, glared at Bucky when he let himself behind the bar into the back room.

“You don’t work here, Winter!” the man shouted over the din of fights and pool and drinking. “Find some other hidey hole.”

Bucky held his middle finger up as he kicked the door shut. Winter. It was a freedome from ‘Bucky Barnes.’ This wasn’t a First Son’s dive bar. This was the hiding spot for a vigilante. For a man who’d had every taken from him--an arm, his name, his memories. Not that Weasle knew about the mind fuckery yet. He just knew about the vigilante part.

Bucky dug out a backpack from one of the lockers and stashed his gear in it before changing into the slacks and button down that had been rolled in the bag. He adjusted his hair and shirt in the crummy mirror that barely hung on the wall and prodded at the gash over his brow bone.

For a second, he considered grabbing Weasel to help him, but just as quickly decided against it. He let himself into the med cabinet and pushed away the whiskey and vodka and E and weed until he found the last three butterfly bandages. It would have to do until he got home. _Home_. As if.

The next glance in the mirror showed what he wanted to be. The president’s son, after a firefight in his kidnapper’s apartment, bruised and smoky and in a dive bar anyway, just like Bucky Barnes and his bad decisions would be. He mussed his hair one last time before letting himself out of the back room through the small window in the wall.

The walk home was short. A late chill had set in and he didn’t have a jacket, so he hurried, even if home was the last place he wanted to be. At least being out of breath and flushed would make his lie a little more believable.

The walk home was quiet. No one seemed to look twice at Bucky and most people were keeping an eye over their shoulder at the sirens that were still rushing by. It only took ten minutes for Bucky to be staring at the safe house he had spent most of his time in since his father had won the presidency when he was eight. Only eight, but he’d known New York was his home and he didn’t want to move all the way to Washington DC. Besides, his mother had argued on his and his twin’s behalf, it would be safeer and quieter for them in a city of celebrity.

Staring up at the facade now, it felt as empty as it always had been. His sister’s light was on and he could see her pacing. As if her twintuition had gone off, she stopped and stared right out the window. Bucky waved, even though he was too far back to be seen. Once her shadow was gone from the window, he took off for the door. He wanted to beat his sister to their parents. Security made that difficult when they caught him around the waist halfway there.

“Mr. Barnes?” one of them asked, looking at Bucky, fingers tight around his jaw as they turned his head one way and then the other. Then they were a flurry of movement, hustling him inside as the other one barked that “Simba was secure, breaching now.” Bucky hated that code name.

In the kitchen, his mother and father were both on their feet, staring at the entrance way as he was walked through it. A security guard held his mother’s elbow and Bucky wanted to snap at them not to touch her like that.

“James?” she asked softly.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, baby,” she cried, breaking free from her detail to rush at Bucky and hug him tightly. He tried not to react to her managing to press on every injury over his ribs. “We thought that madman had hurt you.”

“They thought he cut you up and hid you under the floorboards,” Becca said, appearing on the stairs and watching Bucky carefully. “What happened to your face?”

“Pistol whipped,” Bucky said, bringing his fingers up to the tacky wound. It wasn’t a lie. One of the SWAT guys had gotten a lucky shot as he’d run down the stairs.

His mother whimpered against his shoulder and his father grunted, sitting down heavily at the dining table.

“I don’t think the Winter Soldier is one to cut people up. He’s not a cannibal,” Bucky added, glaring at his sister.

“He’s a terrorist. A homegrown terrorist,” his mother objected, swatting at Bucky’s arm and then henning as he flinched. “Who knows what he’d do to you. Oh, your beautiful face, baby,” she cooed, cupping his cheeks gently.

“Mom,” he whined softly. “I’m fine. Can I just see a medic to get this stitched and then go to bed?”

He was supposed to be terrified but if he put on too much of a show, his parents were going to make him do a whole parade with the seventeen different teams in the house. Sketches, details, blueprints, stories, line-by-lines, and he hadn’t worked his lies out to that extent yet.

“I don’t think he even knew who I was. He just grabbed a guy off the street. Freaked out when he realized,” he lied. He’d lock that away for tomorrow. A detail to keep straight.

“You need to go out of country,” his father said. “For safety precautions.”

Bingo. Bucky put on big eyes and whined softly. “Dad, I don’t think that’s necessary. Come on, it was an accident. A fluke of luck.”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re going to the embassy in Canada.”

Double bingo. “Fine… But can I have a small detail crew? If someone’s hunting me down, I shouldn’t be drawing attention to myself.”

His parents looked at each other, but before they could answer, Becca said, “I’ll go with him. I have to go back to school anyway. I can’t stay away from the program for this long.”

Bucky glared at her over his mother’s head. She shrugged and looked away. “We can do my detail. He can stay with me by campus. No one will notice him.”

Bucky licked a scab on his lips and debated it before turning back to his father, continuing to rub his mother’s back. “She’s got a point dad. It’d be safer for both of us. And you know we don’t do well apart from each other.”

Bucky watched a muscle in his father’s jaw worked and knew it was just like his own anxious, angry ticks. “Fine. We’ll arrange it all tomorrow. But I don’t want either of you out of security’s eyesight,” he ordered.

Bucky ducked his head and let go of his mother. “Ma, I really gotta pass out. I’m exhausted. Can I do all of this tomorrow?”

His mother tutted over him, smoothing down his impossibly wrinkled shirt before sighing and nodding. “Fine, baby. But we’ll need to start the reports as soon as possible tomorrow.”

“Yeah, ma. I know,” Bucky promised. He kissed her hair and bounded over to the stairs, pinching Becca’s side as he passed.

“You’re a terrible actor,” she hissed, climbing the stairs next to him.

“Yeah, yeah, lecture me some other time.”

“Are you calling him? He’s gonna get you before you leave the country, isn’t he?” she asked once they were comfortably away from the ears of their parents and the milling security.

Bucky bit his lip before nodding. “Yeah. Can you cover for me?” he asked.

Becca frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Only for his tits. Not for you.”

Bucky grinned, big and stupid, leaning forward to plant a wet kiss on her forehead. “You’re the best. We’ll work it out after the plans tomorrow. I’ll be sure he’s half naked in front of you at some point.”

“Preferably without you under him.”

“How about on top?”

“I fucking hate you,” Becca sighed, knocking her fist right into a bruise on his shoulder. “Get a shower, you’re disgusting.” She stepped forward and hugged Bucky suddenly. “Just be careful in whatever stupid shit you’re getting yourself into,” she warned.

Bucky nodded and squeezed her back. “I promise, little terror. I’ll be all good for you.”

“Fat chance.”

Bucky laughed and pinched her side again before ducking into his room.

 

A week later, the Winter Soldier was on the back of Captain America’s motorcycle while Bucky Barnes was supposed to be halfway to Toronto U.

 

**Then**

**T-Minus 19 Months**

Bucky came to in blearly blinks. He caught the speckled roof and then the starched sheets and a heart monitor. He didn’t have anyone’s name to gasp out, anyone to reach for. His parents wouldn’t be here, not in the heat and the dirt and the danger. His sister probably didn’t even know. His family was fucked up that way.

Still, when he shifted slightly, after the scratching of gauze on his head and face stopped making his brain buzz, he realized someone was holding his hand anyway. He tilted his head back to the heart monitor and tracked his way through an empty room until he found the man sitting down by his waist, who’d reached out to grab his hand.

He was as clean as he could get out here, hair standing on end and a few streaks of dirt where a quick sink-bath couldn’t quite clear everything. He had crazy blue eyes and a physique to die for. He was familiar, but only in a glancing way. Not someone he’d forgotten, but someone he’d only just met.

“Hey, soldier. How are you feeling?” the man asked. He shifted to hold both his hands around Bucky’s and Bucky frowned but didn’t pull away. He was so warm. Even hotter than the air around them.

“Like shit. So how I look, probably.”

“Nah,” the man said, shaking his head, “you look alive and that’s all we wanted.”

“Ain’t what I wanted.” At the man’s shocked expression, Bucky hurried to continue. “I just mean, all this fuckin’ tape and shit, I know it’s fucked up my hair and I know I haven’t showered in God knows how long…”

“They gave you a sponge bath after the initial surgeries,” the man assured. His lips quirked up slightly though and he squeezed Bucky’s hand. “I’m glad you’ve got good spirits. You have a long recovery ahead of you.”

“I guess, all things considered, I’m in one piece.”

“Well…”

“Fine, two pieces,” Bucky said with a sigh. “Just don’t know where the other one is.”

The man grimaced and his grasp around Bucky’s hand became more than just a squeeze. “I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner. And I know you’re well and truly high right now, but the trauma must…”

Bucky looked away from his earnest face and wiggled his fingers until the man loosened his hold once more. “You’re part of my rescue team. Thank fuck. I thought I had a boyfriend I couldn’t remember or something.”

The man barked out a laugh and nodded. “I was the guy they sent in to carry you out. My name is Steve. I’ll be helping with some of your rehab as well.”

“Is that standard, Steve?” Bucky asked, because he knew damn well it wasn’t. His father had been Commander in Chief for eight years and his mother had been at it for four. He knew what was protocol and what wasn’t with rescued soldiers.

Steve sighed and sat back in his chair, yanking Bucky’s arm with him until he scooted the chair along the floor. “You ask a lot of questions. No wonder they didn’t get a word out of you. You interrogated them.”

“And yet I’m the one with a busted eye and missing arm.”

Steve grimaced again. Bucky was going to have to stop doing that because the man squeezed the hell out of his hand every time Bucky upset him. But he’d grown up with a sister three minutes older than him and winning by upsetting someone was pretty much all he knew how to do.

“Your eye will heal entirely. They got the swelling down to half the size. There’s no brain damage, and no suspected sight damage. You’ll have headaches for a while though.”

“Inspiring.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re just super high right now or just a deeply broken person.”

“Probably the latter.” At Steve’s hurt expression, Bucky sighed. “Look, I knew what was happening as soon as there was a hand over my mouth. I knew what they were doing to me when they interrogated me. They’d been threatening me for weeks. I just…” Bucky sighed again and looked away from the man’s earnest face. “When my dad convinced me to enlist, every person I talked to warned me about something like this. Someone tried to kidnap me when I was ten and when I was sixteen, my boyfriend sold a sex video of us for, like, half a million dollars. My dad shipped me off as soon as it was useful. Point is, all my life, I’ve just been a means to an end. A ransom, a payout, a won election.” He shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter what happens to me because I’ve never really been my own thing. My parents will play this up for years to come and I probably still won’t have dealt with it.”

Steve’s eyes were wide and clear, but there was a hint of something behind them, a force to reckon with. “You haven’t even looked over to your left side yet. Maybe you can’t deal with things because you refuse to let yourself try.”

“I’m so glad you’re also in my head and know what’s best for me, after that whole speech.”

“Yeah, you’re real good with words. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you off that easy. We all have our trauma, right?”

“You ever lost your arm?” Bucky asked sarcastically.

Steve got a million yard stare in his eyes, looked right through Bucky, and said, “No, but I’ve lost just about everything else.”

Bucky didn’t feel like dealing with that, and so he changed the subject. “Why are you hanging out by my bedside, Steve? Shouldn’t you be on your way back to the US with the rest of the rescue team?”

Steve snapped back to the present instantly. “Your parents thought it was best if I escorted you home and stayed on your detail for a minute.”

“Of course they did. How did someone even convince them to negotiate for my release?”

Steve looked conflicted and Bucky knew the answer before he halfheartedly said, “You should talk to them when you get back. I’m just the muscle.”

“They didn’t negotiate at all. They waited until they knew where I was and then sent in a squad.”

Steve bit his lip and stood up, increasing Bucky’s morphine drip. “Go to sleep, kid. We’ll start moving you tomorrow.”

Bucky glared at the man, but the heat of the day and the exhaustion of his soul had him passing out soon enough.

 

**Then**

**T-Minus 18 months**

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere I go,” Bucky grumbled, kicking the door shut behind Steve and throwing his bag and keys on the couch.

Steve shrugged, cocky grin on his lips. “It’s what I get paid to do, and the view ain’t too bad either.” He reached out to pinch Bucky’s ass softly and Bucky pointed a warning finger at him with a glare with no heat in it.

“You soldiers are all the same,” he grumbled as he shrugged out of his jacket and suit coat.

“You’re a soldier too,” Steve reminded. He moved Bucky’s bag to the ground and threw himself over the couch. He’d been sleeping there for almost a month now. As long as Bucky had been home. He really had been right on Bucky’s ass since Bucky had been released from the hospital and Bucky wasn’t sure why his parents didn’t just give him a normal security detail. Not that he was complaining. One person following him around wasn’t so bad. And Steve and him got along just fine, like old friends instead of a guard and body. And, yeah, Steve was fucking hot.

“I never said I was any different.”

It was just a little weird to suddenly have a constant detail again when he hadn’t had one since high school. It felt much odder to suddenly have someone grabbing his waist when people got too close in clubs and bars when the only people who’d been doing that for half a decade were going home to bang him.

“You feel okay? I know you’re pretty use to partying, but with the pain meds and all, I’m worried the alcohol is gonna go right to your head,” Steve said, craning his neck over the edge of the couch to look at Bucky.

Bucky waved him off. “It’s fine. I feel fine. I didn’t drink that much. What, four shots or something? I danced most of it off.”

“Yeah, it was super hot. I think everyone was sweating straight alcohol in there.”

“You don’t go out much, do you?”

Steve blushed and shrugged, as much as he could. “Nah, I guess not. It’s not usually in the job description.”

“What is your job description? What do you do?” Bucky asked, turning to look at Steve directly.

“I’m just in the security business, I guess. Usually a little more large scale,” he answered.

“You think I ain’t large scale?”

“I think my last job had me running all over Europe with a team of elite soldiers,” he replied smoothly.

“Oh, and the president’s kid is just chump change in comparison,” Bucky agreed sarcastically.

“You’re 26. Not exactly a dumb kid.”

“Someone is actively trying to kill me,” Bucky gasped, hand coming up to his chest. “They tortured me. Cut off my arm to extort my father and you just...don’t care about me.”

Steve snorted and sat back up, reaching out to pull Bucky close, a hand tangled in one side of his dress shirt. “Now, I didn’t go that far. And it’s still psychotic that you can joke about what happened to you.”

“It’s psychotic that you don’t drink.”

Steve shrugged and looked up at Bucky. And Bucky figured why not? He pushed his human fingers through Steve’s hair, cupping the back of his head before leaning down to kiss him. Steve reached for the back of Bucky’s knee, pulling until Bucky climbed over him on the couch, trying not to break away too far.

It was probably unethical on both of their parts to sleep with each other. Bucky’s parents were paying Steve and there was an implied power imbalance. Bucky’s obsession with the man probably stemmed from some ingrained serotonin from waking up alive and immediately seeing Steve. Like he imprinted on him or something. And Steve was significantly stronger than Bucky. But, hell, he could be 90 pounds sopping wet and those baby blues would get Bucky to do just about anything Steve wanted him to.

Bucky _liked_ Steve. Growing up in the spotlight hadn’t left a lot of time for him to date around like a normal kid, much less being gay on top of it. And Becca was always dating sons of senators and Harvard futures and Kennedys and it just wasn’t fair when Bucky liked dumbasses and punks and guys who went to clubs to get off on a dance floor. He loved the guys who stood on walls and shouted obscenities about his father’s policies and guys who flipped off cops and guys who wouldn’t look good on the official White House Christmas card.

Steve would look damn good on a card, but maybe  not once people realized how he and Bucky had met.

“You need to get back to thinkin’ about kissing me,” Steve murmured, biting at Bucky’s jaw. “I just felt you go a million miles away.”

Bucky looked back at Steve’s face, tugging on his hair lightly. “If you think you’re gonna get to boss me around in bed, you’re sorely mistaken,” he warned as he finished shrugging out of his shirt. He reached for Steve’s, pulling off the first layer and then working through the kevlar and vests under it.

Steve pushed him back, shedding the rest of his coverage quickly before he pulled Bucky close again. His hands were hot on Bucky’s abdomen and chest as he grasped at Bucky’s skin, shoving his tank top up until he could get his mouth on Bucky’s chest. Bucky gasped and clutched at Steve’s hair, torn between leaning in closer and moving away with over stimulation.

Needless to say, Bucky hadn’t been with anyone else since before he went MIA and this was a lot all at once, partially because it was Steve doing it to him. But the part that wanted to freak out was overpowered by the part that wanted to get off, which was a common theme in his life. And there was something really hot about Steve’s face buried in his chest. Bucky finished pulling the tank off and threw it aside.

Steve followed the new expanse of skin up to Bucky’s collarbones. He dragged his teeth over the bony edge and gripped Bucky’s hips tighter. They were both pressing desperately into each other, breath mingling between their faces. Bucky felt like if he stopped kissing Steve for even a second, he was going to explode.

So naturally steve stopped kissing him. “Are you sane?” he asked as he gasped in breaths.

Bucky gaped at him, fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair. “You just called me psychotica and kissed me. You got a kink or something?”

“No. I mean...you know. Safe, sane, consensual. Are you in your right mind?” And even thought they were both already flushed, Bucky could see another blush work over Steve’s cheeks.

“Yes. Fuck, Steve. Yes. I’m in my right fucking mind. _I_ kissed _you_.”

“You were drinking!” Steve defended, but stopped talking when Bucky kissed him again.

Somehow, Bucky got them laying over the couch. He kissed Steve more, felt like he was drowning away from STeve’s mouth, and got his jeans open enough to shove his hand down the front of them. Steve moaned like he hadn't been touched in years, but it didn’t take him long to retaliate by getting his hand down Bucky’s pants too. And yeah, Bucky moaned like he hadn’t been touched in years. Which was kind of true. Torture got to count as several extra years in a person’s life right?

Between over the boxers groping and grinding against each other like high schoolers, Bucky figured he was going to come way too soon. He didn’t have any delusions of this getting past hand jobs, but he’d at least like to get his briefs to his knees before shooting off. He sat back, stood up, left steve gaping on the couch so that he could shove his slacks off. Steve caught on and by the time Bucky had crawled back over him, Steve’s jeans were around his ankles.

Bucky went right back into kissing Steve, hand dragging down his chest. Steve looked like a fucking Ken doll and Bucky had a million thoughts about fucking his chest before he remembered he was already hard and leaking in his pants. Steve was ridiculous warm but so was Bucky since everything had happened, so he wasn’t phased. He trailed his hands back to the waistband of Steve’s boxers, sliding under and letting Steve buck up into the touch with a whine.

Bucky go this hand around the base of Steve’s cock (and wow) and dragged his fist down it. And down. And down. “Holy Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, looking at the hard outline in Steve’s pants before just tugging his boxers down. He stared and looked up at Steve and then stared some more. Steve was blushing and shifting, but his thick erection wasn’t flagging any. “Holy fuck, Steve. You wanna put that thing in me?”

“Well, I mean, eventually, maybe. Would really appreciate it if ‘that thing’ wasn’t so cold right now.” Steve whined and shifted again.

Bucky looked dubious but shoved his own briefs down, shifting over Steve again so he could grind on him. Skin on skin was so fucking glorious that Bucky tensed and had to grab his length before he came. Steve was not being particularly helpful, just grinding up into Bucky. Bucky licked his palm, staring at Steve the whole time, and slowly brought it down to wrap around their lengths together. It only set Steve off again, moaning and holding Bucky close, one hand in his hair and the other arm around the small of his back. His fingers gripped at the top of Bucky’s ass and Bucky thought that probably looked pretty fucking hot.

Steve bit at Bucky’s neck, his shoulder, anywhere he could start to work a bruise before Bucky shifted again. It was so much all at once and it only took a few moments for both of them to come between their bodies. Bucky made sure to wring the last of it out of both of them, kept going until they were both keening and squirming. For a moment, they just laid against each other, dragging swollen lips over flushed skin.

Steve broke the silence. “Let me kiss you again. You kiss so fucking well.”

Bucky snorted, but lifted his head, pressed his mouth against Steve’s gently. There was no rush now and his body didn’t want to be pushed any further. Steve was a really good kisser too. Maybe it was just that they fit together better than anyone else Bucky had fucked, but he liked kissing Steve. It made his brain a little quieter to boot. Steve’s hand found its way to the back of his head again and brushed out the strands slowly, just keeping them close.

“Can you still be my bodyguard after this?” Bucky asked softly.

Steve laughed and let his hand drag down the back of Bucky’s neck to his shoulders. “Well, if you promise not to tell, I promise not to tell.”

And, really, who the fuck would Bucky tell? His father didn’t want to hear about it. He doubted he could get anywhere near his mother at this point. And Becca was off living her perfect life. She’d be so upset at him for making another mistake, especially one as large as this. The news already speculated worse things about him, so it’s not like he could even sell this story.

Bucky tucked his head against Steve’s shoulder, closing his eyes for only a moment. It was a bad bad move apparently, because then Steve was shifting to stand, carrying Bucky in his arms, even as Bucky yelped and struggled.

“Calm down,” steve laughed, like he wasn’t even phased by Bucky’s weight and wild kicking. “I’m just taking you to the bed.”

“Oh, this was all just a ploy to sleep on a real bed, huh?” Bucky teased when he was certain he wasn’t going to be dropped.

“You’ve caught me,” Steve agreed, grin quirking his lips to one side. “Does that mean I get to stay?”

Bucky sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you can stay.”

Steve beamed and kissed Bucky’s head.

 

**Then**

**T-Minus 16 Months**

Bucky could feel the anger still rolling off of Steve’s body. Bucky had fucked the hell out of the man and even gotten Steve to hold onto him afterwards, tender and soft like Bucky was used to. But that was five minutes ago and apparently Steve could hold a grudge.

“How could he even suggest something like that?” Steve asked no one and nothing. “To put you in an institute because of a joke? How much did he pay that fucking shit doctor to antagonize you like that? I’d have him investigated, take away his license. He’s a disgrace. Only there for the money.

“The vice president of the fucking United States calling for a first son to be admitted. What was he thinking? He’s put you in so much more danger now. Did you see that crowd downstairs?”

Bucky sighed and stopped trying to distract the man with kisses. He turned over onto his back, but left his head on Steve’s shoulder. He figured this conversation would be easier not looking at Steve’s face. “Pierce has been after me for years. He’s the one who passed off the idea of me joining the military to my father. I don’t know. Maybe he thinks we’re too likely to become a dynasty.”

He fell silent in thought for a second. “Thought I guess Becca’s more of the threat there. But Pierce is a sexist old bat, so he probably wasn’t even thinking of her.”

Steve scoffed under him. “He needs to be dealt with. He shouldn’t be on the kind of stage he’s on.”

Bucky chewed on his lip. “Yeah, but what if he’s right?” He pushed on through Steve’s sputtering indignations. “What if I am more fucked up than therapy alone can deal with? I mean, I talk smart and act like I don’t care, but I’m fucking scared all of the time. I have nightmares I never think I’ll wake up from. I’m always in pain and this prosthetic still isn’t calibrated right because woking with it gives me a panic attack. I mean, for God’s sake, the only serious relationship I’ve ever been in is with my fucking bodyguard. As if that doesn’t show how fucked up my mental state is right now.

“But more than all of that is the fact that I want to go back. I fight back in nightmares. I watch the Avengers on TV and think that I could be in that rubble, helping them. The news bitches about vigilantes and I’m always on Daredevil’s side. I could throw on a mask and save people too.

“Someone fucked me up, Steve, and no one is talking about it. How much clout does that name, that sigil have that the dismemberment of the first son doesn’t get investigated?  How many other people have been hurt or killed that never made the news?”

Steve whined under him and hugged Bucky tighter. “Baby, I’m sorry I can’t stop you from hurting and I’m sure people are investigating. Maybe they just think that it was would be triggering to involve you in the search. HYDRA is dangerous. They stole a president’s son and got away with it.”

“I was offered up. I should never have realistically been deployed. It was supposed to be a big publicity gimmick. Yet I ended up out there and I ended up captured. That doesn’t make sense unless they were just using me as a bait.”

“Baby, no one offered you up. There’s no way. Your family is dysfunctional, but they love you.”

“Didn’t you start out this conversation by threatening the VP?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. Steve raised one back at him. “Wait, do you think Pierce sent me out without my mother knowing?” Bucky thought on it before shaking his head. “There’s no way. That’d have to mean there was a whole subsection of the government that was fucked.”

“There are crazier theories out there.”

Bucky blinked and turned to stare at the ceiling again. “So what the hell did I do to deserve that?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. Might be time to find out though.”

The anger slowly bled out of the room, replaced by unease and confusion. But Bucky had fallen asleep uneasy and confused plenty of times. Steve’s arm came around him and the man leaned into Bucky’s space, kissing his jaw gently.

“Hey, whatever it was, if it was anything, I promise I will be right here to protect you.”

Bucky curled his fingers against Steve’s shoulder blade and nodded, staring up at the ceiling as he chewed on his lower lip. “Do you think I’d be able to protect myself if anyone came for me?”

“You were in the military,” Steve pointed out.

“And they chopped my arm off.”

Steve sat back to look down at Bucky before reaching under the pillow on the other side of the bed, pulling out Bucky’s handgun. “I think you’d be fine. But if you want, I can take you to the gym I go to. They do a lot of hand-to-hand training. It’d just brush up on what the military already taught you.”

“Yeah. But at least I would be brushed up. Still in shape.”

Steve nodded and set the gun aside before leaning down to kiss Bucky again. “I promise, nothing else is going to happen to you. Not while I’m around.”

“Guess you better not let Pierce hear you say that. He’d have you fired immediately.”

“I’m still your…”

“My what? Go head. Say it.”

“I don’t know. My lover, I guess.”

“You guess,” Bucky scoffed rolling his eyes before shoving Steve back into the bed. “Let me take some of the confusion away.”

Steve hummed into Bucky’s mouth before falling right back into what lovers do.

 

**Then**

**T-Minus 14 Months**

Bucky awoke to the sound of glass shattering in his living room. Immediately, his human hand went to the gun on his end table, slipping out of bed and holding his breath. He couldn’t tell if he was going light headed out of lack of oxygen or an influx of fear. He could tell someone was walking around the apartment because they were dragging glass with them with every step. Bucky knew he should do something, call someone, call for security, but he couldn’t move as the steps slowly got closer and closer to his bedroom door.

At the last moment, Bucky hauled it across the room, ducking behind the protruding wall of his closet. The bedroom door splintered inwards, even though it was normally a door that opened outwards.

“Barnes!” a rough voice called. “I know you’re in here. Let’s just make this quick.”

Bucky couldn’t believe this was happening again. He didn’t believe this was happening again. He refused to. Despite being a trained soldier, despite having already been tortured once, his hand was still shaking around the gun. He slowly moved it to the metal prosthetic and took a deep breath before jumping out from around the corner and firing off a shot.

It missed, but only because there was suddenly a second body, hitting the ground with the first. The sigil from the black uniform stopped Bucky cold and he couldn’t shoot, couldn’t run, couldn’t call for help, because he knew that fucking skull-octopus.

But he also knew the blue uniform trying to hold the terrorist down. Was he supposed to shoot in the general direction of Captain America? And why was Captain America on call? God, did Captain America lead this guy to Bucky’s door? Fuck that, Captain America wouldn’t know where Bucky lived. Was this all some big coincidence? Somehow that might even be worse.

A gunshot pulled Bucky back from the brink of a panic attack. Stupidly, he checked his own body before he realized the terrorist was shoving Captain America off of himself and squaring up against Bucky again. Bucky raised his own gun and missed the next three shots. It was only Captain America’s groaned, “Bucky,” from the floor that cleared his mind enough to duck out of the way of the next shot and then stand and shoot, catching the man in the throat neatly.

The noise around him settled, but not in his head. His blood was still pounding in his ears, over the high pitched keen of the shooting-shock. He was gasping in breaths and could hear every jagged edge of each one.

“Bucky,” the figure on the floor groaned again, pulling himself along the hardwood, closer to where Bucky was frozen in place. Someone had come for him again. Someone had thrown themselves into his window and tried to kill him in his sleep.

And then _Captain America_ had burst in and fought with the masked figure as Bucky laid in paralyzed shock, unable to see past the sigil on the invader’s chest. And then Captain America had been shot. In front of Bucky. _Because_ of Bucky.

“Oh, God,” Bucky whimpered, dropping to his knees, sending the gun clattering to the other side of the room. “Oh my God, what do I do?” he asked, hands hovering uselessly over Captain America’s body.

“Bucky,” he rasped again, reaching for Bucky’s wrist. But Bucky’s mind was moving too quickly for the man to beat him to it. He quickly reached up to pull the cowl off the man’s face, checking for head injuries until he realized he _knew_ that face.

“Steve?” he asked incredulously. Suddenly, it was so much worse that this man was bleeding out all over his room. “Oh my God, tell me what to do,” he whimpered before he realized he didn’t need Captain America, _Steve_ , to tell him what to do.

What did his trauma training tell him to do? Bucky scrambled for the medkit in the bathroom, digging out a chest seal and coming back to Steve’s side.

“I’m going to get your jacket off,” he said, already running his hand along Steve’s chest and shoulders. He found a slip and quickly unsecured the sides of the jacket. It was more difficult to peel the jacket from Steve’s body, but somehow he managed. Steve was barely there with him, only occasionally glancing at Bucky and reaching for his wrist again.

“Stop doing that! I’ll rip the whole ass thing off. And trust me, this arm can do that.” Bucky got the jacket low enough that he could get the chest seal over the wound. He ignored how much blood there already was on his floor and in the uniform.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly, holding a hand against Steve’s cheek. Was this really the man that had been following him around for months, not letting him get late night froyo without checking the hallways and streets first? Why would Captain America do that? For him? For his parents? It didn’t make sense. Why would Capain America let Bucky fall in love with him? “Everything is going to be okay. There’ll be an ambulance, nothin’s gonna--”

Someone shoved open Bucky’s door and Bucky dove for the gun again before Steve’s fingers were around his wrist, fast and tight.

“Don’t…” he rasped out.

“I’m a friend,” the woman in the doorway said. Bucky stared at her but Steve’s fingers were still on his wrist and he didn’t have the courage to move away.

“He’s been shot. I put a chest seal on the wound, but it won’t last long. It’s up in his ribs. We have to get him to a hospital,” Bucky said. “Can you help me carry him?”

“There’s a med team on the way,” the woman assured. “We’ll move him into the living room so they have more room to work. Can you go sweep up the glass and move your furniture aside?”

Bucky whined, fingers going around Steve’s wrist at the thought of leaving. The woman sighed and shook her blond hair out of her face. “Fine, I’ll go move your things. But I’m not getting sued by the president because I put a hole in the liner of her son’s couch.” Bucky watched her leave, cringed when she stepped on the broken glass outside.

“You didn’t tell me you had friends,” Bucky joked softly, brushing Steve’s hair out of his face. He wasn’t quite cold yet, but Bucky also knew he was enhanced and that could be affecting it. Who knew what shock looked like on Captain America?

Oh Jesus, Steve was going to die. Bucky clutched onto Steve’s hand tightly, willing himself to stay calm. He was failing pretty miserably.

“Bucky,” Steve mumbled, eyes slowly finding Bucky’s face and fixing there. “Buck. Hey.”

“Hey. Hey, shithead. Hey, you hold on, okay? You just gotta do that for me.”

Steve nodded and then grimaced. “Buck…” he said again. Bucky leaned closer. There was nothing he wanted to do more than hide his face in Steve’s chest, but there was blood on his uniform and all over Bucky’s hands.

“‘S gonna be okay,” Steve said, though his voice was thick with blood and it only sent Bucky’s heart racing again. “Captain America don’t die,” he said, trying to grin. It was weak, barely a pull to one side.

“Yeah, but I ain’t worried about Captain America. What about Steve Rogers?”

Steve closed his eyes and Bucky dug his fingers into Steve’s shoulders quickly. “Don’t do that. Don’t give up,” he begged softly. “God, you still haven’t shown me how to take care of myself out there.”

Steve breathed out something that might have been a snort if he could breathe properly. “You just...just...shot a guy…”

“Yeah, I missed the first five times.”

“Yeah. Guess we can’t all be Captain America, huh?”

Bucky wanted to laugh but nothing was coming out as he continued to cling desperately to Steve.

“Hey, are you two done?” the blonde woman asked, appearing in the doorway suddenly. “Help me carry him out to the living room. Hope your hardwood mop up well.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky bit out. As if Steve bleeding out in his apartment was a joke.

“Yeah, yeah, be an asshole later. Move him now.”

Bucky carefully got his arms under Steve’s shoulders, lifting when the blonde woman told him to. They carried Steve out to the living room and only seconds later, there was a storm of medical personnel rushing through Bucky’s door and pushing Bucky and the woman out of the way.

Bucky loitered on the edges and stared at everything that was happening, lurching to his tiptoes too often to see over the sea of bodies.

“Barnes, he’s going to be fine,” the woman said with a sigh.

“Sorry, who the fuck are you again?” Bucky asked, turning to look at her. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest to hide how badly they were shaking.

“My name is Sharon Carter. I’m one of Captain America’s handlers. A Shield agent.”

Bucky frowned and looked at her. “Shield doesn’t exist.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled her hair out of the ponytail it was in. “Yes, in that sentence, that’s what I’d lie about to the the president’s son. I have to admit, I’m surprised you never figured it out. You keep ending up rubbing shoulders with all of our heroes.”

“They’re not yours. He’s not yours,” Bucky grit out.

Sharon rolled her eyes again. “I’m going to go with the transport. If you’d like to know where he’ll recup, consider changing your tone.”

“Fuck you, don’t threaten me. This scene doesn’t need a third body.”

Sharon’s hand went to the gun strapped to her thigh, but the prosthetic moved faster and Bucky grabbed her wrist to pull her hand away before she could pull it free.

“Try it with a different soldier,” he warned.

She stared at him before jerking her wrist free and securing the gun again. “Don’t touch me again, Barnes. President’s son or not, I don’t exist and can’t be tried for your murder.”

Bucky glared at her and she glared right back. He only looked away when they suddenly moved Steve. He trailed after them and pushed his way through the crowd to get on the plane behind the group. He’d never seen a plane like this, but he didn’t have time to stare at anything because Steve was still dying and people were trying to get him off of the plane.

He didn’t mean to. Really, he didn’t. Still, when someone grabbed his arm, he shoved them back with the prosthetic and the man went flying across the cargo space. After that, they backed off. Maybe it had something to do with Steve’s hand finding his wrist again.

 

**Then**

**T-Minus 13 Months 3 Weeks**

Steve was asleep when he phone started to go off. Bucky watched Steve sleep through the first three rings and decided the medication he was under was too strong for him to wake up and take a call. So he grabbed the phone and answered it the way Steve always did.

“Rogers.”

The line was quiet for a while before three beeps sounded and then a location. The line went dead. Bucky stared at the phone. But he knew that spot and Steve was indisposed and what was he supposed to do? He made sure Steve was still breathing and grabbed the shield from where it was crammed into the corner between the bed and the desk.

He thought about stealing the cowl, but they were not even close to the same size. Steve was taller and broader than Bucky. But Bucky still had his old tac-gear from the military, so he threw that on and wrestled the harness for the shield from Steve’s uniform to throw over his.

The streets were dark and quiet, which was ominous in New York. Even in the expensive neighborhood his parents had put him up in, there were teenagers and cars and dogs, the sirens from out of the gates. Anything that didn’t feel like the world had ended and Bucky was trekking through the desolation.

He showed up at the docks and had to stop when he realized the men crawling around the shipping containers were Hydra. He curled his fingers around the gun in his hand and crept forward. He came up on three of the men and disposed of them quickly, quietly. The next group, he wasn’t so lucky. He took a hard shot to the face and fell right back into another guy’s arms, arms pinned behind him quickly. Someone shoved a stun baton into his stomach and even through the kevlar it fucking hurt.

And then there was a hail of gunfire that sent everyone scrambling. Bucky clambered up the shipping container and only wondered how he managed that once he was on top and out of the way of the bodies hitting the ground. He watched one singular figure mow down all of the men that came through the alleys of the shipping containers, even when they came in from the back. Quickly, Bucky flattened himself out on top of the container and set up his rifle, taking care of the roaches creeping in on the guy from behind so he just had to point his stupidly large guns at the ones coming at him front-on.

A few moments later, when Bucky was half deaf and his head was hazy, the man stopped shooting and looked up at Bucky. Bucky barely had time to pull the shield in front of him, curl up in a ball, and wait out the rapid fire shots sent at him.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man asked.

Bucky peered over the top of the shield. “I’m Capt--”

More bullets and Bucky ducked down again. “The hell you are. I’ll ask again. Who the fuck are you?”

Bucky sighed but didn’t come out from behind the shield again. “My name is Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

“Where the fuck is the Captain?”

“In bed with a bullet in his lungs,” Bucky said. “Who the fuck are you?”

“None of your damn business, Barnes.”

The man fell silent but Bucky didn’t look over the edge of the shield until he heard metallic clanging. By then it was too late to prepare for the large man ripping the shield away and throwing it to the other side of the shipping container. Bucky was able to anticipate the handgun coming for his head and he grabbed it and the man’s wrist to wrench it away.

“Don’t fucking point shit at me,” he snapped, backing away quickly when the man growled and advanced. “I’m the fucking president’s son. You ain’t gonna get to keep doing this-this-this vigilante shit if you kill me.”

The stopped the man. He cocked his head at Bucky, a snarl coming to his mouth before he wiped it clear. “Give me my damn gun and run back to your protection squad. This ain’t no place for a kid like you.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bucky scoffed. He kept the gun level at the guy and thought about making a dash for the shield. “Steve doesn’t work with vigilantes. Why did you call him?”

The man narrowed his eyes and watched Bucky track for the shield. He dashed for it before Bucky could, which sent Bucky sprawling towards it too. Of course, that’s exactly what the guy wanted and he veered hard from the shield and crashed into Bucky, pinning him down and fighting the gun back into his own hands.

Bucky kicked the man off of him, sending a metal elbow into his jaw before grabbing the shield and smashing that into the man’s face too. There was blood on the shield when Bucky pulled it away and he briefly thought about how much trouble he was going to be in. The man staggered to his feet and wiped the back of his hand under his nose.

“Well, the Captain sure as hell didn’t teach you to fight,” he said, staring at the blood on his hand.

Obviously no one had taught Bucky how to fight with the shield. It had just come naturally. His metal arm felt like it had done half the work for him. He was not about to tell this massive vigilante that.

“He didn’t need to. I was military.”

“Oh, yeah, the sacrificial lamb.”

Bucky stopped and frowned. “What did you just say?”

“Like you ain’t thinking it too. Someone wants something. They needed a reason to go get it.” He gestured to Bucky. “We ain’t so far off from Medieval times, y’know?”

Except they were supposed to be. They were supposed to be civilized and safe and just. “What’s your name, man?” Bucky asked.

“It’s Castle. And I don’t normally call Cap. But I knew these were his guys. Thought he’d want in on it. I didn’t know he was hurt.”

“Steve doesn’t kill people.”

Castle shot him a dubious look. “He’s a soldier. We all kill people.”

_Carnage everywhere. Blood over his hands, dripping down his chest. A bruise throbbing on his face, his ribs, his hips. A man standing in the door, heaving in breaths too. The star on his chest splattered with blood._

_An echoey voice. “Barnes, are you okay? Are you hurt?”_

“Rememberin’ something good or bad there, pal?” Castle checked and holstered his weapons as Bucky shook himself out of it.

“I don’t know.”

Which was becoming a fucking thesis of his life.

“Well, you took out these shit fucks faster than Rogers normally does. Maybe I’ll just start calling you.”

Bucky frowned at the man and shifted the shield cautiously. “Why? Don’t you people normally work all on your own?”

“Hell yeah. I ain’t havin’ some fuckin’ kid tagging along with me. I’ll call you, you do the dirty work. I ain’t after every shitstain in the city. But someone should be.”

Without his permission, a grin came to Bucky’s face. “I can do that.” He didn’t have to ship back out to find a war. There was plenty of violence right here at home. “You want my number?”

“I know how to find you, kid.”

Bucky’s eyebrows went up and he grew wary again. “Why’s that becomin’ a theme in my life?”

Castle looked at him blandly. “You’re the president’s kid and now HYDRA has a mark on you. Everyone who’s anyone like us is looking at you.”

Bucky swallowed, but caught on the end of the sentence. “Us, huh?”

“Kid, you just took out thirty HYDRA agents without blinking an eye and then kicked me in the face. Apologies if I ain’t thinkin’ of you as that club-hopping teenager that was all over the news.”

It was weird that anyone would think of Bucky that way. That life felt like a million miles away now. Between the enlistment and the deployment and the torture and everything with Steve and now this. Bucky didn’t even really know when tac-pants became more comfortable than club shorts. When had he last styled his hair and how long before Steve had it been since he was in an monogamous relationship? He felt like a different person and people still thought of him as eighteen and stupid.

“What name are you gonna use? We can’t damn well have Bucky Barnes runnin’ around these streets.”

_A firefight in the distance. Strong arms under him. Bright sun. Too bright. His eyes were watering bad enough to start crying. Someone was mumbling, voice rumbling in the chest to Bucky’s side in the bridal hold. “‘These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.’”_

_“Fuck...summer…” Bucky groaned against a shoulder._

_“Yeah. Yeah, bud, I think you’ve proven yourself to be--”_

“Call me the Winter Soldier.”

 

**Then**

**T-Minus 9 Months**

Bucky didn’t know why he thought this wouldn’t happen. He knew exactly how Steve operated and once Steve had caught sight of the black mask in the apartment window, Bucky should’ve known he wouldn’t stop hunting the Winter Soldier until he was incapacitated enough to be brought in for questioning.

Sure, the full facial mask hid Bucky’s identity from the potential security camera, the bad guys, people who would recognize fucking James Buchanan Barnes. He hadn’t imagined Steve wouldn’t recognize him as he crawled out of his own apartment window.

And, yeah, maybe fighting all of Steve’s bad guys was a good way to get caught too. Whatever. He was helping, dammit.

He ducked out of the way of the shield as it flew towards his head again, trying to knock it down so he could grab it and keep Steve at a distance. He reasoned out if it was safer to come clean or make a run for it. Steve was going to kill his ass once he realized what Bucky had been doing.

He sprang forward to grapple with Steve while Steve fucked with the shield and managed to get a decent volley of shots in on his ribs before Steve smashed the shield into the side of Bucky’s head. He couldn’t tell if the ringing in his ears was from the metal of the shield hitting his goggles, or if he was honestly discombobulated.

He righted himself and immediately stumbled back three steps. Alright, so discombobulated. It was fine. He knew how Steve fought. That still didn’t mean Bucky was able to stop the hard chest kick that followed him just catching his breath.

When he fell backwards, Steve loomed over him, pressed the edge of the shield down over Bucky’s throat. Why the hell didn’t his uniform cover his throat? He was going to have to figure that one out if Steve didn’t kill him first.

“What the hell were you doing outside that apartment?” he demanded roughly. It was a voice that Bucky had never heard from Steve. It sent a spike of fear through his body that he couldn’t shake off before Steve was kicking his arm free and standing over his wrist. Bucky’s fingers flexed and his wrist ached where it was pinned.

“You could...stand on the other one,” he groaned, trying to tear his arm away even though he knew he wasn’t going to get very far.

Steve frowned and put more weight on Bucky’s wrist. “Why were you at that apartment?”

Bucky reached for the shield quickly, using his prosthetic to shove it away from his throat. He rolled himself into a backward flip, taking Steve down with him and freeing his wrist finally. He could feel a trickle of blood dripping down his throat where the shield had cut a little too deeply.

Steve threw the shield blindly behind him and it still managed to connect with Bucky’s bad shoulder as he ducked out of the way. That thing so did not obey the laws of physics.

Still, it was a bad enough throw that Bucky was able to knock it down and grab it himself. Maybe he’d put on more muscle since he’d been fighting all of Steve’s fights for him, but the shield was getting lighter and lighter every time he held it. He was feeling pretty damn good about himself.

And then something kicked him in the back of the head and sent him sprawling over the roof they were fighting on. The shield bounced back to Steve’s waiting arm. Bucky tried to pick himself up but his head was spinning so damn badly, and the prosthetic had definitely popped out of place.

Whoever had kicked Bucky stalked over and pulled Bucky up with a hand around his good arm. “What do you want to do, Cap?” he asked. Machinery whirred behind them and then the guy frog-walked him over to Steve.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said and Bucky stilled before suddenly fighting to see the infamous Sam. When Steve wasn’t talking about Bucky, he was talking about Sam. “Take off the mask, tough guy,” Steve ordered before Bucky could catch much more than goggles and a decent beard.

Bucky shook his arm free and Sam grabbed his prosthetic instead. He reached up and slowly unclipped his own goggles and then the breathing mask. He could see the reactions in real time on on Steve’s face. The confusion and the rage and the resignation.

“Fuck you, Barnes,” he muttered, bringing his hands up to his face.

Bucky shrugged and finally turned to see Sam, who had torn his own goggles off to stare at Bucky. “What the fuck?” Sam asked.

“Look, I had a skill set and you’re always laid up in a hospital bed. I wasn’t gonna let bad things happen just because you had a bullet in your head.”

“That’s a fair fucking reason not to go fight bad guys,” Sam defended. Bucky waved him off.

“Has it been you this whole time? The Hydra cells, the trade-offs. Jesus, are you working in Hell’s Kitchen?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m working wherever they crawl off too. I’m leaving all the hard shit for you.”

Steve narrowed his eyes but Sam opened his mouth first. “This is Barnes? This is the guy you’ve been sleeping with? Seriously? Jesus, Steve, you’ve got a very fucking specific taste.”

“You’re telling people you’re sleeping with me?!”

“It’s Sam,” Steve objected. “I tell him everything!”

“That’s true. He doesn’t have other friends.”

“And that’s not half as bad as you deciding you  need to go play hero when you know there are people out there waiting for you!”

Bucky and Steve glared at each other. “I can’t believe you’d be so stupid,” Steve said.

“You’re one to fucking talk. You work with the Punisher?”

Sam wheeled around to look at Steve. “You’re working with the Punisher?!”

“We just tell each other about people we might be interested in,” Steve defended. “I’m not the one in trouble here!”

“You’re about to be!” Sam said.

“Look, there’s a Hydra cell meeting up with some imports from their home base. You have to let me go deal with them, or there’s going to be realy bad guys and weapons all around New York and beyond.”

“We can help,” Sam said instantly.

“Sam!” Steve objected. “Take him back to the apartment.”

“I’m not a doll!” Bucky glared at Steve and planted himself more firmly in his spot. “Someone just needs to pop this shoulder back and I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing this for months. I ain’t gonna hurt myself.”

“No way. Go home, Barnes,” Steve said, voice hard and unyielding.

Bucky glared at him but Sam moved to Bucky’s back, lining up his shoulder to Bucky’s and yanking his arm back into place. “Where are we going?” he asked over Bucky’s cursing and muttering.

“34th and 11th,” Bucky growled out, rubbing at the joint even though there was little actual skin and muscle there.

“The subway depot?” Sam asked.

Bucky nodded. “They’re getting something off a ship. Using the depot as a getaway in case someone shows up.”

“In case you show up,” Sam pointed out.

Bucky shrugged. Steve, who had mostly been silent and stewing looked up. “Pierce has an event at the art museum tonight.”

“Target?” Sam asked cautiously, though he sounded like he already knew he wasn’t.

Bucky thought about a million small cuts over time, about the Russian and German that slid off Pierce’s tongue like old practice, about Pierce’s hatred of everything about Bucky and his every attempt to slide talons into Bucky’s side, about the propaganda Pierce had fed year after year after year. Pierce wasn’t a target. Not when he was the one who sent Bucky to the desert, not when he’d recused himself from the investigation, not when he fought tooth and nail for every second branch of power--keeping the light off of him but the power in his court.

“Close proximity to pull the strings,” Bucky said. He glanced up at Steve and found recognition and confirmation in his gaze.“What’s the event?”

Steve blanched slightly and brought a hand up to his face. “It’s a veteran benefit.”

“The richest fucks in the city and a bunch of abled bodied soldiers for HYDRA,” Bucky said before cursing.

“Do you think the shipment has something to do with…what? Terrorism? A hostage situation? Why does it matter that soldiers will be there?” Sam asked.

“When I was held in the desert, they were trying to use this…I don’t even know. Not truth serum. They were trying to control me. Electrical shocks, injections, gas. It was always temporary, but for those two hours or whatever, I was their machine,” Bucky explained. “Who knows how far they’ve come in a year.”

“And even if they haven’t, they’d only need a few hours to wreak havoc with that many active duty and veterans in one place,” Steve pointed out.

Sam nodded before looking at both of them. “We can’t just go take Pierce down unless he’s in the middle of it all.”

“And we can’t let that shipment leave the docks. Can’t even let it get to subway station,” Bucky agreed.

“So Pierce is gonna get away with it,” Steve growled.

“For now.” Bucky looked up at Steve and set his jaw. “If that shipment is even a little bit of what they were giving me out there, it’s more important we stop it, than if we stop Pierce. You promised, Steve. You promised no one else would go through what I did.”

Steve’s own jaw tightened and he let out a frustrated noise. “Fine, we’ll go stop the shipment. But then you put up the gear and stay home.”

Sam snorted and then looked up at Steve, all wide eyed and innocent. “Don’t look at me, man. I just know your type and they ain’t never the ones to hang up the gear. You like people like you.” He shrugged and slung an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Alright, so tell me more about these HYDRA bastards.”

***

“What the hell is this shit?” Sam asked, looking in the fifteenth trunk they were unloading from the ship.

Bucky frowned down at it too, setting aside the rifle he’d been considering tucking under his gear. “I don’t know.” He picked up a bag of the blue gel and squeezed it between his fingers. “This isn’t anything like what I was being given.”

Steve grabbed one and grimaced. “It’s super soldier serum. But this wasn’t headed to the museum. The process for this stuff is lengthy. There’s no way they could have given it to anyone at the function.”

“Well, there’s a lot more crates to go through,” Bucky said with his own grimace. “It looks like they’re getting an army ready.” He held up one of the tac vests. “And everyone in it is gonna be real fit. This shit would be big on me.”

“Hey, do you think they hand sew every emblem on these things?” Sam asked, picking at the edge of the octopus skull on one of the vests.

Bucky shrugged and then laughed, bringing his hands up to his face to hide some of the tears that had sprung to his eyes. A second later, Steve’s arm came around his shoulders, tugging until he had Bucky pulled into his chest in a firm hug.

“I’ve been fighting all of these assholes for so long and what’s it done, Stevie?” he asked wetly, clutching at Steve’s uniform as much as he could. “They’re still going to win.”

“They’re not going to win, Buck,” Steve murmured. “We know what they’re doing and they have no idea who we are. Who you are. We’ve got every leg up on them.”

“We should infiltrate,” Sam said suddenly, looking up from where he was holding the vest against his chest.

“How are we gonna manage that?” Bucky asked. “Nazis don’t want a hot black dude in their unit and Steve is too much Captain America for anyone to believe he’s with them.”

“But you…” Sam started, following Bucky’s thought track.

“No way. Absolutely not,” Steve said before Sam could even get the rest out.

“It would make sense. He’s already had the brain-fuckery. They wouldn’t think to do it to him so much. And he’s probably had this…” He held up the serum.

“What? No way. I was awake most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Sam repeated. Bucky’s stomach turned over.

“No way. I’m not putting him into more danger. Absolutely not,” Steve objected again.

Bucky turned his distaste on Steve and rolled his shoulder back in the socket. “I’ve been in danger for half a year without you knowing. I can handle it. I’m not a fucking paper doll, Rogers.”

Steve glared right back at him.”You’re too valuable an asset.”

“Yeah, that’s what they used to say in the desert when I begged them to kill me too,” Bucky spat out. “Let’s go, Wilson. We’ve got plans to work out.”

“Barnes, don’t fucking run head first into this shit!”

“Oh, yeah, that’s real fucking impressive coming from you,” Bucky scoffed. “I’m not going to hide  away from the world. That’s what they want. That’s what _Pierce_ wants.”

“Listen, Steve. Taking out these big guys? Not really your forte, right? Explosions, shield-throwing, killing bases and cells, sure, you excel at that. But we can’t take Pierce down by just blowing up his apartment,” Sam said reasonably. “You gotta let us handle some of this other stuff, alright?”

Steve scowled and kicked the shield into the air to catch and shove into the harness. “I’m not pulling you two out of this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Yeah right. If I ask you where your mom is, get me out, no matter what. And keep me away from them.”

“Don’t talk about my mom while I’m pissed at you.”

“Steve.”

Steve turned to glare at him before nodding jerkily. “Fine. I’ll pull you out. But I’m killing him if it comes to it.”

“Yeah, that sounds fair,” Sam agreed. “It’s not gonna come to it. We have it under control. But if you need to, go for it.” He turned to Bucky. “Don’t let them touch your arm. They’d be able to reprogram it, put a tracker on it, whatever. It’s too advanced for us to allow it to be used against us.”

Bucky looked at Sam before taking a deep breath. “Yeah. I know. I’ll stay safe. I ain’t spending more time there than I have to.” He closed his eyes and looked at Steve before looking away. “Hail Hydra, I guess.”

 

**Then**

**T-Minus 4 Months**

The slap sent Bucky’s head slamming to the side. He could feel blood pool in his mouth immediately and he didn’t have to pretend for the blank expression that was frozen on his face. He didn’t look back up at Pierce, kept his empty gaze focused somewhere to the side.

“Sometimes I think you want Captain America to catch you in the act,” Pierce spat. He grabbed Bucky’s jaw and forced his gaze forward. This was a game and a parade that Bucky knew very well. He’d say it was like Pierce forgot Bucky was still technically the president’s son, but this was exactly like Pierce knew precisely who he was hitting and ‘controlling.’ Then again, he was also acting like ‘Captain America’ wasn’t the president’s son’s body guard.

Bucky didn’t know why he thought he could actually make it this long pretending to be working for Hydra while also feeding the information to Steve and Sam. He supposed the fools really believed their mind control substances worked. Mostly they worked for knocking Bucky out. He still got out to Steve, still relayed the information to him in as timely a matter as he could manage, all things considered.

“Do you want us…” some shithead in the corner started before Pierce sliced his hand through the air and some other guy slammed the butt of his gun into the man’s mouth. Bucky looked away from the blood show.

“You’re going to kill Captain America,” Pierce said evenly. Bucky, somehow, did not visibly react. He kept a bored stare on Pierce’s face, ignoring the aching in his jaw. “Take care of him, and we can move to the final phase of our plan. You’ll be the most important part of our machine.”

“Our favorite part machine,” the handler they’d given the ‘Soldier’ sniggered. Rather than getting a gun in his mouth, Pierce gave him a smirk.

“Prep him,” the older man ordered, standing and removing himself from the room. Bucky let the handler pull his head up, taking the injection in his neck with minimal complaint. He rolled his eyes when he started to speak though. This part never worked. “Longing. Rusted…”

 

**Then**

**T Minus 0 Months**

Bucky woke up in Steve’s bed, which wasn’t that unusual. He got used to coming to off the concoction surrounded by Steve or Sam, in bed, sprawled on a couch, unceremoniously dumped on the floor when it was Sam who caught him on the come down. What was unusual was Sam’s blurry face swimming into view with a terrific bruise spreading over his eye, into a gash along his cheekbone.

“Rise and shine, shithead,” Sam said, spritzing water in Bucky’s face. “Are you gonna still try to kill us?”

Bucky blinked and didn’t understand. “What are you talking about? What happened to your face?”

Sam looked like he was about to answer when suddenly Steve was in the door, worried and distressed. “Bucky? Jesus, are you Bucky?”

Bucky frowned and tried to sit up, but Sam held him back. “Yeah, it’s me. What the hell are you talking about?”

“We’re talking about you trying to take Steve’s head off like you didn’t even know him,” Sam said.

“What?”

“You came through the door like you owned the place and we thought it was just you. But then…” Sam’s jaw tightened and he looked away. “You just fucking went for it. You were breaking shit and you kept hitting Steve.

“I don’t know how he managed to get you outside, up the the roof. You tried to throw him off the side of it. Jesus, Bucky, you had your hand around his throat.”

“Four months. I told you four months was too long. I told you something was happening!” Steve snapped, all terror and misplaced blame.

Bucky caught a glimpse of the fading bruises wrung around Steve’s neck. Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes and he shook his head. “No. It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t do that. I’ve never done that.” The words came back to his mind. Longing, rusted… He knew they were supposed to be trigger words, sleeper-agent words, but they’d never worked before. Not on him. Not like this.

“It wasn’t you,” Steve assured quickly, crossing over to the bed and and pushing his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “It was what they did to you. Not you. Never you.”

But Bucky couldn’t help but feel like it was. It was his hands hands, his brain they overrode. And neither Sam nor Steve would’ve let it get so out of hand if they didn’t know Bucky, if it was just a stranger coming through the door.

“How did you stop me?” Bucky asked, because he’d gone toe to toe with Steve before and held his own. God knows what he could do if he wasn’t thinking or pulling his punches.

“I drop kicked you from the air,” Sam said with a shrug. “It knocked you out, we brought you back down here, and you’re fine.”

“Fine is relative,” Bucky muttered.

“Fine is alive and speaking,” Sam snapped back. They glared at each other, but the exhaustion in both of their eyes was overpowering the play fighting that normally followed them around.

“Alive is relative. Jesus, I can’t believe they got into my head. They trained us against that shit in the military. You know,” he said to Sam.

Sam nodded and sank back in his chair. “Fucking Nazis.”

“You can’t go back,” Steve said. Bucky almost argued but stopped himself when he felt the ache of overexerted muscles, the sting of the slap how-many-ever hours ago still on his jaw.

“What do we do now?” Sam asked, looking to Steve. Everyone looked to Steve and Bucky knew how it wore Steve down, how it settled on his shoulders until he was hunched aad aching.

“We go after Pierce. We’ll have to get him away from the rest of the political team, let him think he’s won,” Bucky said, sitting up despite his body’s protests. “The sooner he thinks he can get this plan moving, the messier he’ll get. He’ll stay away from my family, away from his detail. It’ll be easier to get to him.”

“How are we gonna manage that, man?”

“Steve has to die.”

Sam blinked at Bucky disbelievingly and Steve objected with a soft, “hey!”

“We’re gonna trash this place and you’re gonna carry Steve’s unconscious body into the New York White House so Pierce sees, or at least hears about it.”

“Hey!” Steve objected again.

“And the ‘Soldier’ is going to make enough of a fuss at my apartment that most of the detail will be drawn away to deal with me. I’ll meet up with Steve again and we’ll head off.”

“How am I supposed to carry Steve half unconscious into the Barnes Residence?”

“What if no one carries me anywhere. You’ve already got that shiner. Might as well put it to good use. Say there was a break in at Bucky’s place, that I was incapacitated, that you moved Bucky to a secure location,” Steve said, and there was a reason he was the strategist of them. “The Soldier can disappear right as the detail shows up. Leave enough for them to start sniffing around in case we fail in bringing Pierce down.

“Cheery disposition,” Sam muttered.

Bucky shook his head. “There’s no bringing him down. If he hasn’t been caught yet, he won’t be. We’re going to have to take him out.”

Sam shuddered at the difference but Steve fixed him with a steely stare. “I’ll do it,” Bucky said. “Captain America doesn’t have to get his hands dirty.”

“That’s not what I’m frowning about.”

“We don’t have time to argue,” Sam cut in. “Pierce isn’t going to sit still for long. We need to get the ball rolling on this, alright?”

Steve and Bucky glared at each other, but across the bed, Steve’s hand found Bucky’s. “Alright. Sam, go to the residence. Bucky, go to your apartment. I’ll meet you on the adjacent roof.”

Bucky nodded and squeezed Steve’s hand. Becoming the Soldier wasn’t second nature to him yet, but casting off Bucky Barnes--the party boy image, the responsibilities of being the gay First Son, of being a twin, of being a POW and amputee, that was pretty fucking easy. “Let’s do this.”

 

**Now**

Albany, of all places, was where Pierce had holed up when DC had unofficially moved to New York with the Barneses. Not quite the Canadian vacation President Barnes was expecting of her son. Bucky supposed it made sense, far away enough away to not be noticed by many people while being close enough to the action to always have something to do, somewhere to put his nose and hands.

Bucky and Steve crept around the property. Even though the lights were off, they weren’t so stupid as to believe no one was around. As it was, they’d already incapacitated three HYDRA members at the gate. Bucky shifted in front of Steve, keeping his eyes on the grounds since he knew Steve was entirely focused on the house.

“Where do you think he’s hiding?” Bucky whispered into the telecoms installed in his mask.

He heard something scratch against Steve’s microphone while he shook his head. “I don’t know. Stay sharp,” he warned. He didn’t need to tell Bucky twice.

As it turns out, they didn’t need to hunt anything down. At the edge of the property line, just before open forest started, something exploded in a fantastic plume of fire and smoke. Steve pulled Bucky back and put the shield between their bodies and any possible blowback and debris.

“What the hell was that?” Bucky asked, peering over the shield.

“No clue. Let’s go,” Steve answered, running across the field. Steve was fast, but Bucky was just as enhanced--confirmed during one of the handler’s trial and error sessions--and not carrying a shield. He skidded around the house and found dozens of HYDRA agents milling around, watching the fire spread into the trees. Before Bucky could say anything, another explosion went off and then another. It continued through the forest until all the trees were aflame and the fire could race along the open fields on the other side.

Then, all at once, the fields were covered with something soft blue and foamy, growing the way soap suds did. It over took the fire faster than explosions had and quickly put out the flames.

“Do you smell something?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky before frowning at the breathing mask.

Bucky shrugged. “Told you your cowl was stupid,” he said, grinning behind the mask. “Do you think the explosions were triggering each other?”

Steve made a low noise in the back of his throat. “It’s something to consider. Heat reactive bombs. You really can’t smell that?” Bucky looked away from the soap and nazis to find Steve swaying, eyes rolling back in his head. It took two more seconds for him to fall backwards. Bucky yelped into the mask and quickly holstered his rifle, grabbing Steve and pulling him back into the thicket they’d just come from. He pressed his fingers against Steve’s neck and found a steady, if slow, pulse. He pulled one of Steve’s eyes open and checked his pupils. All normal. What the fuck?

Bucky shoved his fingers down Steve’s throat to check for swelling and obstruction, but there was nothing there. His breathing was even and shallow, but he wasn’t turning blue yet.

“Falcon,” he radioed in and heard the other line come to life.

“Copy, Winter.”

“Cap’s down. Requesting evac and aerial coverage.”

“What? No way. What the hell happened?”

“You got eyes on the explosions and suppression attempt?”

“Roger. Been watching it.”

“Don’t get too close. I think it’s some kind of chemical. Cap breathed it in and passed out. I’m safe right now, with the mask.”

“Yeah, that was part of the point of it. How long do you think I have in the air?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s potent. I mean, it knocked Steve out in a minute.”

Sam grumbled on the line. “I’m putting on my mask to get him so I’m gonna lose comms for a while.”

“Roger that, Falcon. You got my location?”

“Affirmative. Are you going to keep fighting?”

Bucky freed the shield from the harness on Steve’s back. “Yeah, probably.”

“I can’t support that.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m an idiot. You’ve got it on record.”

“I don’t need a record. Anyone who knows you will know that’s true.”

“Keep him safe and then get eyes in the sky for me.”

“Roger, Winter. Be safe.”

Bucky pressed his lips together before running into the fray.

* * *

 

“This is a breaking news alert. We interrupt your scheduled programming to bring you updates on the situation in New York.”

“A scary scene outside of Vice President Pierce’s New York residence late this evening. Soon after explosions wracked the perimeter of the residence, several superheroes were caught by our late night news copter, trying to contain the situation. Amongst the crew were notably the Falcon in the sky and the notorious, wanted Winter Soldier. It has not been confirmed that the attacks on the Vice President’s residence is related to the kidnapping of James Barnes earlier this week, though it is safe to assume as much. We’re going live to the scene right now, where I’m being told more explosions are being detonated.”

In the dark expanse of the residence, an explosion blooms towards the camera, but suddenly a dark figure is jumping through the flames, indistinguishable except for the obvious shield attached to his arm. Against the fire and in the dark clothes, the figure is entirely obfuscated. The fighter takes out three different HYDRA agents without drawing a weapon and then frees a rifle to begin firing before the camera cuts out.

“We are so sorry if those images were disturbing to any of our viewers. This is a live stream and we cannot guarantee PG-13 content. The figure in the video is being confirmed as the Winter Soldier, with Captain America’s shield, possibly stolen after the attack on James Barnes. Captain America has not been seen since that night, but many of our viewers are questioning if he is truly hurt if the Falcon, Captain America’s partner, is out working with the man who ‘killed’ Captain America. Many of you seem to buy into the conspiracy that Captain America and the Winter Soldier were seen near the Canadian border together yesterday.”

Footage cuts back to the fire suppression almost over taking the Winter Soldier before the Falcon pulls him up into the air, dropping him on a lawn away from the foam. The camera cuts to a group of HYDRA agents unconscious and tied together at a safe distance. The Falcon adds another.

“There is still no word if the Vice President was at the residence at the time, or why these superheroes were on hand to deal with this terrorist operation so quickly. Viewers, tell us on our online poll, should superheroes be required to disclose dangerous organizations like this and their plan for taking care of them?”

The camera cuts off of the anchor quickly and goes back to the residence, where the Winter Soldier is dragging a snarling, fighting Alexander Pierce out of the residence by the collar of his shirt. He stalks up to a camera and roughly jerks the Vice President up to share the frame with him.

“Your vice president was trying to have your first son murdered,” the Winter Soldier snarls. He shifts his left hand to the back of the man’s neck. “Say it outloud.”

“Fuck you. The United States does not negotiate--”

“This is exactly what he said to your president while your first son was being hacked to pieces in the desert by this man’s terrorist organization. In that house,” the Winter Soldier said, pointing to the residence, “are beakers and beakers of serums. I suggest your more official judicial systems use some of the truth concoctions on this man. Leave me the fuck alone.”

The Winter Soldier bodily throws the Vice President across the lawn to the pile of bodies. The camera cuts away before he hits the ground.

“That was the Winter Soldier addressing the United States of America directly to accuse the Vice President of crimes against the country. Again, that was the Winter Soldier--”

 

Steve turned off the TV and groaned in the bed, turning his head until he could see Bucky--redressed to look like the exhausted First Son--curled up in the too small hospital chair by Steve’s bed. He was using his metal arm to pillow his head against the edge of the chair. Something squeezed in Steve’s chest and it wasn’t just that Pierce walked away from the ordeal. Well, he didn’t _walk_. Probably never would again. Wouldn’t do anything again, the way his spine hit the ground. But Bucky had restrained himself. Even if it was only because the cameras showed up.

And the squeeze wasn’t just because Bucky had cut off all the hair that had grown since his capture and rescue, flushed down the hospital toilet. And it wasn’t just the rumpled half suit. Not the healing damage to his face. Or the little ways he saw the kid he rescued from the desert or all the new parts of the man he discovered in bed and back alleys and roofs. Suddenly Steve realized there was someone in his life just as strong as him, physically, emotionally, mentally. He’d fallen a million years ago for this man and now he understood that he was caught.

“Stop making eyes at him,” Sam ordered from the door. He passed over a water bottle to Steve and nursed his own coffee. The bruising on his face had gone down and he’d had to turn down several security job offers and talk show appearances. Sam was going to be just fine now that he’d had a chance to shine without Steve right under him on the ground.

“I can’t help it.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

They lapsed into an easy silence until Bucky let out a soft chirp and startled awake. “Steve?” he asked, rubbing at his face. “You’re awake? How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“Are _you_ awake?” Sam laughed, passing over the coffee. Bucky took it and finished it down to the dredges.

“I’m alright, man,” Steve said with a nod.

“This is a fun switch up from our first meeting, huh?” Bucky asked with a sleepy smile.

“Yeah, it is,” Steve laughed.

“What did you tell me that day?” Bucky asked. “Til the end of the line?”

“Yeah. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

Bucky preened. “‘Til the end of the line, Rogers.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [HERE](https://abarbaricyalp.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
